Ad Nihilum
by Evilkitten3
Summary: They've returned – been sent back, for whatever reason – and obviously that's a good thing. But sometimes Atem wonders if it was worth it, in the long run.
1. Standing in Awe of Eternity

**AN: I wanted to write something light-hearted and silly for my debut in YGO fanfiction. And then I remembered who I am, so I wrote angst. Enjoy! Or suffer.**

 **Warnings** : Major disassociation, depression, PTSD, and other things humans feel after really shitty things happen

 **Other things you absolutely need to know** : Characters are not omniscient. The fact that someone says something doesn't mean that they're _right_. Isis doesn't know everything about Egypt. Yuugi can be wrong about Duel Monsters. Anzu might not always correctly guess what a person's thinking. Do not assume that a character is correct. Please also note that, while the narration will never flat-out _lie_ to you, my writing style often involves intentionally being misleading. I am not a particularly trustworthy narrator.

Chapter One: Standing in Awe of Eternity

For a while, it seems like everything will be fine – like they can ignore the elephant in the room for a bit. Yuugi insists that Atem stay with him, and the Pharaoh of course agrees, but he wants to keep an eye on the Thief too. Bakura is fine with that, because he doesn't want to wake up to the police at his door or something, and he's still trying to put his life together after all that's happened. Sugoroku is okay with it, unsurprisingly, but he gives the Thief a strict warning to behave himself.

The Thief doesn't respond, and that's _worrisome_ , because no one has any idea whether or not he plans to murder the lot of them in their beds, but at least silence is better than a flat-out death threat (probably). Atem shares a room with Yuugi, because there's only one guestroom and none of them want to be alone with the Thief for any duration of time, much less eight hours. The Thief seems to share the sentiment, because he stays in his room, not even coming out when Sugoroku called him for meals.

At first, that was fine – he's probably sneaking food at night, Atem says, doesn't want to interact with us. Because we won, because we _beat_ him, because he hates us – the reasons floated around unspoken, and nobody bothered to look at it any closer until Yuugi's mother confessed her suspicions that the Thief wasn't eating at _all_.

So Atem had walked up to the Thief's room and kicked the door open and the Thief had been exactly where they left him two days earlier – sitting on the bed, staring at the wall, and saying nothing. There's a lump in Atem's throat that he isn't comfortable with, and his mouth is strangely dry all of a sudden.

"Have you eaten?" he asks, expecting ( _hoping for_ ) a sneer and a rude reply. The Thief doesn't even look at him. The lump grows. "Tomb robber. _Bakura_." No response, no _reaction_ , to either title. Atem doesn't know the Thief's name; they've always just called him Bakura, but that's probably not it. In the back of his mind, he wonders if the Thief himself knows it – assuming he still has one. Atem feels frustrated, at himself and at the Thief, and it's not like a damn _tomb robber_ deserves _respect_ , so– "Answer me!" he demands. The Thief turns to look at him, and Atem has to force himself to keep his voice strong ( _Pharaoh-like_ , a nasty voice in the backs of his head hisses). "Have you eaten?"

"No," the Thief replies dully. His voice is scratchier than it should be, and Atem wonders if he's even had any water. His nose wrinkles.

"Take a shower," he orders. "I'll get you some food. Eat that when you've cleaned yourself up a bit." He pretends the Thief's wordless obedience doesn't bother him, but the lump in his throat has grown so big it's a wonder he can still talk.

It becomes a routine, after that – the former Pharaoh checking on his mortal enemy every day to make sure he at least eats _something_ and doesn't forget hygiene. He forgets about teeth, sometimes, since that wasn't a big deal in Egypt, but it seems like 'cleaning up' includes teeth getting brushed too.

"Think he's planning something?" Jounouchi asks one day, as Atem walks back downstairs to rejoin his friends.

"Maybe," Honda says thoughtfully. "But I don't get why he hasn't tried to kill anyone yet." Yuugi looks over at the ex-Pharaoh (it's strange for both of them, not being able to communicate within their minds, but they can still read each other fairly easily).

"What do you think?" he asks. Atem just shrugs. He's scared that the lump will fall into his stomach – or worse, out of his mouth – if he says anything.

"He's not okay, is he," Anzu says, and it isn't a question. Atem can't bring himself to meet her gaze. "He's not causing problems, like you said, but… you wish he'd at least _try_ something, right?" It's always amazed Atem how well Anzu could read people. The girl's empathy was practically a superpower all on its own.

"I don't think it's him," he tries to explain. The lump seems to have fused to his tongue, and the words he wants to say cling to the back of his throat like blood. "I mean, it _is_ , obviously, but it's _not_."

"Maybe it has something to do with how you came back?" Shizuka suggests. "I mean, maybe he expected to wake up in his old body, like you." It was true – Atem had awoken in his sarcophagus in Egypt, body restored to the way it had been three thousand years earlier. Had Isis not somehow known he was coming back, he would've suffocated (the gods had sent her a vision, she'd said, although she looked uncertain as to whether it was actually the gods or something left over from the Millennium Tauk). The Thief, on the other hand, had returned in a body almost identical to Bakura's, as his own had never been mummified and was thus lost to time.

"I don't think so," Atem says. He pauses, before continuing. "It's like something's missing." He stares at the floor.

"Like Duel Monsters," Yuugi realizes. "You think… you think something was 'sacrificed' to allow you both to return." The lump dislodges itself.

"He listens to me," Atem blurts out, his stomach rolling. "He hasn't been sneaking down to eat; he only does when I make him. Otherwise he just sits on the bed staring at the wall all day, and that's _not right_." The words feel like bile coating his tongue, but he feels a bit better now that it's all out (like throwing up, he thinks, and then thinks _ew_ ).

"You mean he _has_ to listen to you?" Honda asks. "Isn't that a good thing?" Anzu and Jounouchi fidget in their seats, looking awkwardly away from the last member of their little group.

"Is it?" Marik asks quietly, looking directly at Honda. It's the first thing he's said to them that day aside from an awkward greeting, and Honda immediately realizes what he's said.

"I didn't mean–" he stammers. "I– no, of _course_ it's bad, _ethically_ speaking, but– I mean–" he trails off, staring at the floor.

"I don't want this," Atem whispers. "I mean, I'm glad I'm back – I missed you guys way too much, but I don't want the cost of our lives to be… _that_." He hesitates, and a shudder seems to run through him. "I don't want him to have been dragged back into the realm of the living just so I could sacrifice a piece of him to bring myself back."

"You didn't, though," Marik points out. "The gods did, assuming they're the ones who brought you back. Can't think of anyone else who could've, though."

"He's not a Duel Monster!" Atem says, more angrily than he meant to, and Marik flinches back. He's not entirely comfortable being there – would much rather be with Bakura, since they're sort of friends and he really doesn't fit in with Yuugi's group – but he felt like he should come, either because Yuugi had asked him or he thought it was his duty to the Pharaoh (there was another possible reason, one that involved a broken promise, but Atem wasn't going to force Marik to divulge his reasons, regardless). But he was there, and he was _trying_ , and that meant something. "I'm sorry," Atem says, dipping his head in acknowledgement. "I didn't mean to snap. I'm not mad at you, Marik."

"Just ask him," Jounouchi says, shattering the tension in the room in a way only Jounouchi could (less due to what he'd said and more that he was lying upside-down on the couch, socked feet against the wall). Atem blinks.

"Ask…" he begins, and then frowns. "What do you mean?"

"Ask him," Jounouchi repeats, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Ask him if he has to listen to you. Ask him if he has a choice. If he doesn't, he'll be able to tell you. And if he does, he'll have to be honest. 'Course, if he doesn't, he could always lie, but at least we'll get an answer." Atem stands.

"I'll try that right now," he says, and he runs up the stairs because if he's right then it's better to know _now_ , and if he's wrong then they need to figure out what the hell is going on, because whatever it is spells trouble.

He enters the Thief's room like usual – no knocking or warning of any kind, partially to make sure he's not up to something and partially because he honestly just doesn't care – and the Thief is exactly where he always is, giving no indication that he'd heard anything.

"Do you have to listen to me?" he asks. The Thief doesn't reply (or perhaps he was going to and was simply taking his time). "Answer me!" Silence. Suspicion grows in Atem's chest. "Are you, by any chance, refusing to respond because you feel like being ironic?" he asks dryly. He hopes that's the case, and not that the Thief will be forced to say something else if he opens his mouth.

"I do not answer to you," the Thief replies curtly, and Atem jumps because that's the most the Thief has said at all since their return.

"Then why are you obeying me?" he demands. The Thief lifts one shoulder in a shrug and returns to staring at the wall. "Why did you come back as well?"

"Heaven didn't want me and Hell's afraid I'll take over," the Thief says blandly.

"That's not an answer," Atem snaps, although a part of him is snickering because, knowing the Thief, that's actually a legitimate possibility. The Thief simply shrugs again, and nothing else Atem says can get him to speak, so he goes back downstairs.

"That's a bust, then," Anzu says, seeing the look of relief on his face. He nods, and the group relaxes slightly.

"We still don't know what's with him, though," Shizuka points out.

"Maybe we were onto something earlier," Marik muses. "Maybe–" he stops and his eyes light up. "There's something _missing_!" he exclaims. "You were _right_!"

"But he doesn't have to–" Atem begins, but Marik cuts him off.

"Not free will or whatever," he clarifies. "Didn't he fuse his soul with Zorc? I don't think the gods would've brought _that_ back." The room goes silent.

"You think he misses being a…" Honda trails off, not entirely sure _what_ the Thief had been. "You think he misses not being human?" Marik shakes his head.

"Probably, but not what I meant," he explains. "The spirit of the Millennium Ring wasn't the Thief King – he was a piece of him that had been fused with a piece of Zorc. In other words, _half his soul is gone_."

"Oh." Anzu says softly. And then, " _oh_."

"So he's only half here?" Jounouchi asks. Atem nods thoughtfully.

"That makes sense," he agrees. "But that begs the question of which pieces of his soul are missing."

"His Ka is one of them," Yuugi says instantly, and everyone's minds flash to Diabound for a moment. "I'm sure of it."

"But there are five pieces of the soul in Ancient Egyptian mythology," Shizuka points out. "That means– well, it could mean _anything_. Maybe two and a half pieces of his soul are gone, or maybe half of each." Marik shakes his head.

"It's two and a half," he says simply. "He doesn't have a Ren either, I bet. You said he didn't respond when you called him unless you didn't use a name, right?" Atem nodded, but the others looked surprised.

"I didn't know that," Yuugi says, giving the Pharaoh an odd look.

"I told Isis," Atem explains. "I never thought it was important enough to mention after that, honestly."

"That's the Ka and the Ren," Anzu mused. "So… what else is missing? The other pieces are the Ba, the Sheut, and the Ib – the personality, the shadow, and the heart, right?" Marik nods. She's not one hundred percent right, but the inaccuracies aren't big enough for there to be any point in correcting her.

"I don't think that jerk ever _had_ a heart," Jounouchi scoffs.

"Then why did he want revenge?" Yuugi asks quietly. Jounouchi looks at him, and then at Shizuka. He winces.

"Fair," he admits. " _Zorc_ probably didn't have a heart, though."

"Hence why Bakura– I mean the Thief, sorry, kept his," Marik says. "He wouldn't have had any motivation otherwise."

"What about power?" Honda suggests. Anzu sighs.

"Power over _what_?" she asks, pointedly. "He wanted to destroy the world. Marik was the one who wanted power – no offense," she adds. Marik shrugs.

"No, that's fair," he says. He looks at Atem. "I don't suppose you've noticed anything funny going on with his shadow?" Atem shakes his head.

"I haven't really looked," he admits, "but by the sound of things, he's missing half his Ba. In other words, the half of his personality he still has is the part untouched by Zorc. So… I suppose that part of him came from _before_ Zorc began influencing him."

"When did that happen?" Anzu wonders. No one says anything for a while.

"Probably right after the massacre," Yuugi murmurs. The group turns to look at him. "That's when… well, he was a kid, right? So I imagine he'd be the easier to manipulate about then – just after he'd watched… _it_ happen. All Zorc would've had to do was convince him to seek revenge. After that…" Yuugi trails off, looking a little ill.

"I hope that's not it." Shizuka whispers, hand over her chest. "That's just _awful_ …"

"No, Yuugi's almost certainly right." Marik says. His tone is casual, as though he was talking about the weather, but there's a shadow in his eyes. "People are much less reasonable after something horrible happens, especially if they're a kid." No one dares argue with him on that – Marik has a better grasp on this sort of thing than anyone.

"But you lost your evil half too," Jounouchi points out. "You're fine."

"That's because he was the result of a mental illness, not part of my soul," Marik says. "Yuugi and the Pharaoh were separated too, but they're fine because they don't share the same soul. Well, not exactly, anyways, but we could spend years trying to figure _that_ out and still get nowhere."

"All this makes sense," Honda says, "but does anyone else feel like we're missing something?" Shizuka gasps, smacking her fist against her hand.

"Oh!" she exclaims. "That reminds me. Just the other day, Ryuuji mentioned something to me!"

" _Ryuuji_?" Jounouchi interrupts, aghast. "You're on a first-name basis with him?"

"Why?" Shizuka asks, confused. "He said–" she shakes her head. "Look, we can talk about that later. I remember him wondering about where the body came from!"

"The body?" Atem echoes. "The Thief's, you mean?" Shizuka nods excitedly.

"Yeah, exactly!" she smiles. "The Pharaoh's body was restored, so he came back in that (which is kinda gross, by the way), but how can you come back in a body that doesn't exist anymore?" Atem frowns at the 'gross' comment, but he had to admit that even he had been a little uncomfortable with waking up to the literal stench of death and slowly fading decay.

"So, what's his body made of?" Anzu asks. Honda shrugs.

"Looked like flesh and blood to me," he says simply. Atem nods, but for some reason warning bells ring in the back of his mind.

"Flesh and blood…" Yuugi repeats. He's starting to look a little ill.

"Is everything alright?" Atem asks.

"Flesh and blood," Yuugi says again. He swallows. "I know this might sound strange, but you know how you got mad about comparing him to Duel Monsters?"

"I fail to see what that has to do with–" Atem begins.

"If you fuse two monsters together, then it's best to be able to defuse them as well, right?" Yuugi asks. He licks his lips, which are suddenly very dry. "What if it's the same thing here?" Atem frowns.

"I don't follow."

"If you can turn flesh and blood into something, can't you also turn it back?" the entire group is silent, everyone's attention fully focused on Yuugi. After a moment, he looks at them. "I don't suppose any of you know where the Millennium Items are," he says softly.

It takes a minute to sink in, and then Atem is running to the bathroom, his friends calling out behind him, vomiting his lunch into the toilet, and _shaking_.

 _Please let Yuugi be wrong_ , he prays, dimly realizing that his cheeks are wet, _please gods let Yuugi be wrong,_ please _don't let him be right_. But there's a certainty deep in his chest, biting in and latching on like some sort of venomous, blood-sucking barnacle. He heaves again, and feels a hand gently rubbing his back.

"Let it out," Anzu whispers softly. "Just let it all out." He cries against her, once he's done throwing up, because he can't possibly fathom who in their right mind would think that _this_ was an acceptable sacrifice to bring him back. If the gods are truly behind it, he's not so sure he wants to worship them anymore.

He thinks of the nameless Thief, trapped in the most ironic body the gods could've given him, and part of him stupidly wonders _what if he can still hear them_ , and he shudders at the thought. After a moment, he lets Anzu help him to his feet, and quietly follows her back to their friends. No one is looking all that thrilled, but the only one crying aside from Atem himself is Shizuka.

"This is so messed up," Honda says, like the rest of them haven't already figured that out. "Just… what the hell, y'know?"

"Marik," Atem addresses the Tomb Keeper. "You don't think… you don't think the gods would do something like _that_ , do you?" Marik shrugs helplessly.

"You'd know better than I would," he points out. "I can ask Isis, if you want."

"Please," the Pharaoh rasps. "I just… I need someone else's opinion on this, and asking Kaiba is pointless for multiple reasons." Jounouchi snorts.

"Yeah, he'd probably just say it's all a bunch of nonsense and then demand that you duel him," the blond boy grumbles. "Stupid freakin' rich boy…" Marik steps out of the room to call his sister, and Anzu turns her gaze to the stairs.

"I wish there was something I could do," she murmurs. "I think I'll call Bakura when I get home," she decides. "I won't ask him to get involved, but maybe he'll be able to tell us something."

"Are you sure he'll be okay with that?" Yuugi asks. "I think he's been avoiding us because he _doesn't_ want us to ask him anything." Anzu sighs.

"I know," she admits. "But I honestly can't think of anything else, and if Yuugi's right then we need to do something. Anything. I just…" she looks up at them. "No one should have to live like that," she says firmly. "No matter what they've done."

"You shouldn't feel obligated to help him," Honda says, frowning. "He tried to kill us. Repeatedly."

"That's true," Anzu agrees. "And I _don't_ , not really. I won't forget what he's done, and I know I don't owe him anything, but I refuse to let someone suffer like that if there's anything I can do to help."

"He's sleeping," Sugoroku says, and the whole group jumps because none of them had heard him come down the stairs (or go up them, for that matter). "I know that should be a good thing, but I have a bad feeling about this." Marik comes back into the room, sliding his phone back into his pocket. Atem turns to face him, desperation shining in his eyes. _Please let Yuugi be wrong, please let Yuugi be wrong_ …

"She thinks it's definitely possible," Marik says softly. "But there's no way to know for sure." He turns to Sugoroku. "You said he was asleep?"

"Seems to be," Sugoroku confirms. "I don't suppose you happen to know if that's good or bad." Marik shrugs.

"Could be either," he says. "Or both. Might not be either one, really." He pauses, and looks up at the staircase. "I'll go check on him."

"But Grandpa just–" Yuugi begins, but Anzu nudges him gently and he snaps his mouth shut. "Right. Go for it." Marik walks briskly up the stairs, and the rest of them pretend they don't hear the increase in his pace.

 **AN: I'm gonna stop there, because this has reached twelve pages and is now** ** _way_** **longer than it was supposed to be. This was also supposed to just be a simple oneshot. Well, it probably won't be more than three to five chapters. Thanks for reading, please review, and I hope you enjoyed it! Kitty out.**


	2. Rapport and Rancor

**AN: On to chapter two! Even though almost nobody's read the first chapter… well, I'm feeling good about this story, so I'll keep going despite the lack of feedback.**

 **Moving right along, it should be fairly obvious why Atem and the Thief are main characters, but Yuugi and Anzu will both be getting bigger roles soon. Why those two, you ask? Well, it may seem more logical to give Bakura a more important role that Anzu, but I really doubt Bakura wants anything to do with this. Anzu, on the other hand, is one of the most empathic and loving characters in the series. As someone with very little empathy (this isn't hyperbole – on a scale of one to eighty, I ranked** ** _nine_** **. No empathy here), I admire Anzu's ability to understand and relate to others without any amount of emotional dishonesty or manipulation. I get that the fandom hates her, but I think she's an absolute sweetheart who deserves better.**

 **This author's note is one of my longer ones, but this all needs to be said. The only other thing I need to say is this – the Thief may seem out of character. In case you didn't figure it out last time (which isn't any fault of yours; I left it vaguer than I meant to), the Thief is disassociating, which happens in many forms. For example, yours truly is known for being a loud mouth (despite actually being quite introverted), but there are times when I just pace around muttering to myself or zone out entirely. Not the sort of behavior you'd expect for someone who has difficulty shutting the hell up. Now, since this author's not has gone on for almost a page, I'll shut up and let you enjoy the story. Kitty out.**

 **Warning: This chapter contains gross imagery, mentions of nasty things, and some characters having** ** _really_** **bad nightmares**

Chapter Two: Rapport and Rancor

Nearly a month after the Pharaoh and the Thief had returned to the realm of the living, Yuugi Mutou wakes up screaming. Atem bursts into the other boy's room, closely followed by Sugoroku and Mrs. Mutou. Yuugi throws himself into his mother's arms, sobbing.

"What's going on?" Atem demands. Sugoroku was rubbing soothing circles on his grandson's back, leaving the former Pharaoh unsure of what to do.

"I couldn't– I– there–" Yuugi breaks off, continuing to cry.

"Deep breaths," Sugoroku says, soothingly. Before Atem has the chance to ask what's going on, the door slams open again, and the four occupants of the room stare in shook. The Thief looks furious, but his anger is made less terrifying by the fact that he doesn't seem fully able to stand without leaning against the doorframe.

"What did you do?" he snarls. Atem prepares to defend his partner, but Yuugi speaks first.

"I'm sorry!" he wails. The Thief continues to glare. "I didn't mean to! It just– I was there and I don't know _why_ , and there was nothing I could do, and–" He breaks into another round of tears, and the Thief snorts.

"Grow up," he sneers. "And stay the fuck away from me." He storms off (or, at least, walks away with an air of irritation), using the wall as support for his shaking legs.

"Isn't this the first time he's left his room?" Yuugi's mother wonders. Atem nods.

"Yeah," he murmurs, staring at the place the Thief had been standing (by a very loose definition of the word). "I guess now we know why."

* * *

"And he didn't say anything else?" Anzu asks. Yuugi shakes his head, taking a bite of his sandwich. He'd been hesitant to tell his friends of what had occurred that morning, but Atem had pointedly asked when trying to hide things from your friends had ever been a good idea.

"I don't like this," Honda scowls. "I didn't like it when he was staying in his room, and I don't like it now."

"And he was having trouble walking…" Marik mused. "I didn't notice that before, and the Pharaoh acted like it was new to him as well, even though he's the one making sure Bakura – er, sorry, the Thief – goes to the bathroom." It was strange to have Marik as part of their group, but it would've been stranger to exclude him after he transferred to Domino High, especially since he really _was_ trying to be a better person.

"What did you dream about?" Bakura asks, after a moment. Yuugi hesitates.

"I was hungry," he whispers. "So, _so_ hungry. It was like my stomach was trying to– to _eat itself_." He shudders.

"That'd be the acid," Otogi comments. "When you go too long without food, your stomach starts to–" Anzu glares at him, and he snaps his mouth shut.

"Go ahead, Yuugi," she says softly. Yuugi nods, taking a deep breath.

"It was hot," he recalls. "Everything was sore. I think my feet were injured. And then I saw this _lizard_ –" he breaks off, looking sick.

"And you ate it alive," Bakura says. "Right?" At Yuugi's nod, he continues. "You remember every twitch it made until it stopped moving, the feeling of its blood on your tongue because there way no way to cook it, the–" he stops, seeing the horrified looks on everyone's faces. "I've had that dream before," he finishes.

"You've had that _exact same dream_?" Otogi asks skeptically. "When, last night? I don't remember you ever mentioning it." Bakura glances at him.

"You wouldn't," he says flippantly. "Anyway, it's not a dream, Yuugi. It's a memory. One of _his_." The way Bakura's face twists at the last sentence leaves no question to 'his' identity.

"Why would _Yuugi_ be having _his_ dreams?" Jounouchi wonders. "I mean, he was in _your_ head, Bakura, so it sorta makes sense in your case, but Yuugi? How's that work?"

"Maybe it was intentional," Honda mutters darkly. Yuugi shakes his head.

"The way he was looking at me when he came into my room…" he trails off, a shadow crossing his face. "It was like I'd done something _awful_."

"To him, sure," Bakura agrees. "He's always kept his guard up. Never let anything through. The only time I ever had dreams like that was when Marik's split personality killed us for a bit." Marik flinches.

"Sorry 'bout that," he mumbles. Bakura just shrugs.

"Anyway, if it's the same as back then, he probably relived it too," Bakura gives a mirthless laugh. "Look on the bright side, Yuugi – you could've ended up with something _much_ worse." ' _Like the massacre_ ' goes unspoken.

"I made him _relive_ all that?" Yuugi asks, horrified. He remembers how small his hands had been in the dream, how thinly the dust-covered brown skin had been stretched over bloody fingers. "So it was from his point of view… he was so _small_." No one dares to make a joke about _Yuugi_ calling anyone small. It's not the time or the place.

"How awful…" Anzu murmurs. "There must be _something_ we can do." No one says anything, and Anzu sighs. "Okay then. Marik, I need you to talk to your siblings. I'm going to head to the library and see what I can figure out. Bakura, I know you want to stay out of this as much as possible, so if you could make a list of anything you think might help, that'd be great and I'll try not to bother you after that. The rest of you, try to keep Yuugi's mind off of stuff like that."

"I can help too," Yuugi began, but Anzu placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Yuugi, we don't know what's going on," she says softly. "We have no idea if this will happen again, if it'll get better or worse, if there will be any other side effects, or anything like that. The best thing you can do for now is to stay safe. You've done so much for everyone here; let _us_ help _you_."

"You guys help me all the time," Yuugi says quietly. Jounouchi laughs.

"Yuugi, we could save you from an active volcano and it wouldn't come close to payin' you back." He says, grinning. Honda nods.

"You're the reason we're all here," he points out. "You're the reason we were all able to become friends. Not the Pharaoh. _You_. You and Anzu have been friends for ages, you saved Jounouchi and me even after how mean we were, and Marik–" he stops. "Ok, that one was mostly the Pharaoh, but–"

"The Pharaoh wouldn't have been able to help me at all without Yuugi," Marik interrupts. He stares intensely at Yuugi, who looks down at the ground in response.

"You beat me all by yourself," Otogi points out. "Actually, I think Bakura helped, but the one dueling was _you_." Bakura shakes his head.

"No, that was the Spirit," he says. "He wanted to earn your trust or something. But the point still stands. You saved me too, more than once." He doesn't elaborate, and no one asks him to.

"Yuugi," Anzu says. "You saved Kaiba's _life_. You've done more for the lot of us than we could even _begin_ to do for you. Just once, just this _one_ time, let us do the fighting for you." Yuugi can feel the tears streaming down his face.

"I beat Pegasus because of you guys," he rasps, sniffling. "I made my wish to–"

"To have friends who would never abandon you," Marik interrupts. "And they never once did. Jounouchi broke free from the Millennium Rod for you, Yuugi. Anzu was willing to be crushed for you and Jounouchi. Honda, from what I've heard, risked his life for all of you in Kaiba's Death-T thing. Bakura let an evil spirit possess him again because he thought it _might_ be able to help you. Otogi would've gone to Egypt with you, if you'd asked. And I–" he stopped himself, looking uncomfortable.

"You're my friend too, Marik," Yuugi says, smiling through his tears. "You didn't have to help me, but you did. Even though there was nothing in it for you." The rest of the gang looks between the two.

"Yuugi," Otogi says slowly. "What exactly _did_ Marik do for you?" Both Yuugi and Marik freeze, before slowly turning to look at the others.

"Oops," Marik mumbles. Both he and Yuugi look like deer caught in the headlights of a very big oncoming car.

"I just wanted to talk to him," Yuugi blurts. "I– it was so _lonely_ , even though you guys were there, and I just wanted to see if I could–"

"Yuugi," Jounouchi breaks in seriously. "Are you two the reason the Pharaoh's back?" Yuugi's wince is enough of a response, and Anzu rounds on Marik.

"You should've known better," she hisses. Marik flinches away.

"We made a mistake on the spell," he says quietly. "It was just supposed to let you _communicate_ with the dead, not actually _resurrect_ a corpse." He sighs. "Rishid walked in on us and realized what was going on, but it was too late. So we dug up the Pharaoh before he suffocated. As for the Thief… Isis thinks he was sent back to keep the balance," he admits. "I don't really understand, but it seems like he was meant to spend eternity in his own personal hell. That body was likely something he had before we accidentally dragged him back into the living world."

"So… he was in hell?" Honda asks. "I thought the bad guys in those myths got fed to that dog thing."

"Ahemait," Marik corrects. "And yes, usually. I guess the gods decided that that was too good a fate."

"So they did _this_?" Otogi asks, raising an eyebrow. "Seems… excessive."

"Well, he _did_ try to destroy the world," Honda points out.

"Whether he deserved it or not is beside the point," Anzu cuts in. "It is what it is, and bickering about it will get us nowhere. Yuugi and Marik screwed up. They're our friends. We're going to make sure everything turns out ok. We _will_ get through this," she adds softly. "And we'll do it _together_."

* * *

The instant Atem learns of the situation, he tells Yuugi and Marik that he isn't mad at them and storms up to the Thief's room.

"Why is Yuugi having nightmares from _your_ life?" he demands. The Thief just gives him a tired look. The dark circles under his eyes are significantly harder to miss up close, and part of Atem wonders how he's only _now_ noticing this.

"I've no clue," the Thief hisses coolly. "In fact, I'd much prefer it if he'd _stay the hell out of my head_." Atem grabs him and pins him to the wall by the throat. The Thief's been eating, at least, but he's lost weight – a warning bell goes off at that, but Atem pushes it aside.

"Don't give me that," he snarls. "Whatever you're planning, we'll stop it." The Thief's eyes flash.

"I'm not planning anything," the Thief snaps, tugging in vain at Atem's hand. "I never asked to be dragged back here. Exactly when do you think I had the chance to plot something?"

"You're always plotting," Atem says bitterly. The Thief snorts.

"I can barely stand up," he sneers. "I'm not exactly in a position to do much of anything. Unless, that is, you think I can somehow manipulate your silly little friends while simultaneously doing my absolute best to avoid the lot of you. In which case, yes, I've summoned several horrible monstrosities and they're going to give us all mildly unpleasant dreams until you play a card game and magically solve everything. Is that what you were hoping to hear, Pharaoh?" Atem release his grip, glaring at him as he slides down the wall. The Thief, rubbing his bruising throat, glares back at him from his position on the floor.

"Violence isn't going to solve anything," Anzu interjects, stepping between them and gently pushing Atem back a few steps. "Pharaoh, I know you're upset, but he's got a point. And you," she turns to the Thief, "this is a problem for _all of us_. Nobody wants Yuugi in your head, least of all you. We need to work together if we want to figure this out and get it to stop." The Thief scowls at her.

"There's nothing to figure out," he growls angrily, hand still protectively covering his still-tender throat. "Yuugi and Marik fucked up. The gods are punishing them."

"You never mentioned that you were having nightmares," Yuugi says, looking at Marik. Marik shrugs uncomfortably.

"I always have nightmares," he says quietly. "I usually can't remember them. But it's certainly possible that I had the same one as Yuugi."

"You did," the Thief assures him. "I recall your presence quite well." Marik snickers at that.

"Careful how you say that," he taunts. "People might get the wrong idea." The Thief gives him an irritated look.

"I don't care how anyone interprets it," he snaps. "Not everything is a sex joke, Marik. If you're incapable of thinking with anything other than your d–"

"Enough!" Anzu interjects, rolling her eyes. "Honestly. Serves me right for surrounding myself with guys. I need more female friends." She sighs. "Look, we need to focus. Yelling at each other isn't going to help. I understand that you don't like him, Atem, but you need to control yourself. Same goes for you," she adds, looking at the Thief. "Don't go around provoking anyone. Got that?" The Thief doesn't respond, and Anzu frowns. She waves her hand in front of his face. "Hello?" The Thief's eyes are glazed over, and Atem gently touches Anzu's shoulder.

"He does this sometimes," he tells her. "Just… zones out. He's not going to say anything until he snaps out of it. But you're right, of course." Out of the corner of his eye, Atem notices Marik kneeling by the Thief's side. "Let's go," he says quietly. Marik can take care of himself, he knows, and the Thief – as he himself had pointed out – wasn't really able to cause anyone much harm. Anzu nods and follows him out of the room, casting one last look over her shoulder.

* * *

Marik slings one of the Thief's arms around his shoulders and helps him to the bed, seating himself at the foot. He looks at the ceiling, then the floor, and then finally at the Thief. After a moment, he closes his eyes and allows himself to lie back on the bed.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, knowing the Thief won't hear him. "I didn't mean for you to end up like this. I'll find a way to fix this, I swear. I just wish you'd let me _tell_ them." He opens his eyes once more, looking directly at the ceiling. The Thief is motionless, curled up on the other half of the bed, staring off into the distance. Marik turns his head to look at him, scowling. "But don't you ever say something like that to me again, Bakura. I might've been the one to drag you back into the world, but I'm sure as hell not gonna be the one who takes you out of it."

 **AN: I forgot to give my usual spiel about ships last time, mainly because I forgot that this is a fandom I'm fairly new to. Anyhow, I ship a lot of those things. I** ** _write_** **very few of them. Romance isn't really my genre, so I don't really involve ships unless it's relevant to the story. Otherwise, I generally leave things ambiguous. For this story, ships don't play much of a role. Anzu and Yuugi like each other in canon, but they aren't a couple so I'm keeping their relationship platonic here (unless the plot demands otherwise). Mai and Jounouchi also seem interested in each other, but Jounouchi is a minor (and the age of consent laws in Japan are actually a tad more complicated than just what age you're allowed to shtup at) and I don't think Mai is emotionally ready to settle down anyway.**

 **Speaking of Jounouchi, I am astounded by how little of the fandom seems aware that Jounouchi is his** ** _sur_** **name, not his personal name. In Japan, it's common to refer to your classmates by their surnames (hence why Yuugi and Anzu refer to their friends as "Jounouchi", "Honda", "Kaiba", "Otogi", and "Bakura" rather than "Katsuya", "Hiroto", "Seto", "Ryuuji", and "Ryou"). This is also why Jounouchi was so surprised that Shizuka mentioned Otogi in such a familiar manner last chapter. So no, Shizuka will not be calling her older brother by his surname (although, presumably because their parents got divorced, Shizuka has a different surname anyway).**

 **For anyone wondering, "Ahemait" is another way of spelling "Ammit" or "Ammut", the goddess/demon who devoured those Ma'at deemed impure. I just like spelling it this way, for whatever reason.**


	3. Charcoal Memories

**AN: I wrote a whole chapter today for my FT fic Things Fall Apart! I'm on a freaking** ** _roll_** **here! Knowing my luck, that's about to stop, but I got a really inspiring review on this story, so I'm going to begin chapter three! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, guys, it means a lot. I'm pretty new to this fandom, and I can't write card games for the life of me, so your support is really appreciated. I hope you enjoy the chapter, and please feel free to let me know what you think, positive or negative (try for constructive criticism if it's negative, please – flames are rarely particularly helpful). Also, this isn't a shipping fic. If some of this comes off as Vexshipping, then that's your interpretation. There are no ships here. Without further ado, on with the story! Kitty out.**

 **Warnings** : Flashbacks (not particularly bad, but there's some implied death and stuff, and they aren't exactly in chronological order), disassociation, Anzu Mazaki's glorious biceps, and extreme grandpa-ing

Chapter Three: Charcoal Memories

The next morning, Anzu marches up to the Thief's room, opens the door, and walks straight in, ignoring Yuugi's attempts to stop her. The Thief doesn't turn to look at her, but she sees his eyes dart towards her.

"I brought you these," she announces, dropping a canvas bag on his bed. He doesn't move to take it, and she sighs. "It's a sketch book," she explains. "Some pencils, too. I know what you're going," she adds. Now he does turn to look at her, curiosity piqued slightly. "It's called 'disassociation'," Anzu tells him. "I don't know everything about it, since I'm not a psychologist, but my cousin's girlfriend does it, and she says drawing can help."

"Help with what, precisely?" the Thief asks. His tone is cool and uninterested, with an undertone of threat, but there's a glimmer in his eyes that confirms his interest.

"Getting your thoughts out," Anzu replies. She hesitates for a moment. "I thought, if you wanted, you could draw something from Ancient Egypt?" She doesn't dare mention Kul Elna – that's a line she's not willing to cross.

"What makes you think I can draw?" the Thief drawls. His lips have twitched upwards into a tiny smirk, and Anzu takes that as progress. She shrugs.

"You don't have to be good at it," she says, with an air of disinterest. "But you've never seemed like the type to give up just because you were bad at something. Granted, that's an assumption I made from watching you duel the Pharaoh, but it seems like an accurate one." The Thief stares at her, and it's a bit disconcerting because _that's Bakura's face_ (but it's not, not really, not right now; the eyes are too dark and haunted, cheekbones too high, chin too pointy to possibly belong to Bakura, and then there's the feeling of something _old_ , something that doesn't _quite_ belong where it is), but she pushes her discomfort aside to give the Thief a friendly smile.

"You might have more balls than all your little friends combined," the Thief says after a moment. Anzu laughs.

"Well, I did smash a guy's face in with a globe once," she jokes. The Thief snorts, and Anzu isn't entirely sure if it's genuine amusement or something else.

"And here I thought you were only good for dancing," he mutters. Anzu lets her face contort in mock offense.

"I'll have you know that dancing requires a lot of physical ability," she says, indignantly. "You should've seen the back-flip Marik did when he was possessing me."

"He told you about that?" the Thief asks, raising an eyebrow. Anzu grins.

"Yup," she says, drawing out the vowel a bit longer than necessary. "Well, I mean, sort of. Jounouchi and Honda were being a little mean when he first transferred to Domino High, and one of them – Honda, I think – threatened to beat him up if he tried anything. He told them I was scarier than they were, and then he explained the back-flip thing." She shrugs. "I was a little angry, but I was mostly flattered."

"You saved his life through the power of dance," the Thief says, amused. "I'm going to hold that over his head for the rest of his life."

"I saved his life through the power of _biceps_ ," Anzu corrects. "Said biceps just happen to have been obtained through dance practice." The Thief frowns.

"I thought biceps were in your arms somewhere," he mutters.

"Biceps brachii is in your upper arm," Anzu agrees, flexing hers. She's showing off a bit, she knows, but she's proud to be the most physically fit in her group, especially since she's the only girl. "Biceps femoris is in the back of your thigh. There was railing involved in that flip, so he used both."

"You know a lot about muscles," the Thief observes, giving her a strange look.

"My dance instructor says it's a good idea to know what muscle you're using," she explains. "Also helps you remember which stretches to do." Anzu shakes her head. "I have to go to school now," she tells him. "Draw whatever you want. Or don't draw at all; it's up to you." She doesn't wait for him to reply, partly because she knows he isn't going to thank her and partly because she's going to be late for school if she stays much longer, and Yuugi's waiting for her. It wouldn't be fair to make him late too. She's done what she can do for now. There's no point in sticking around (but a little voice in the back of her mind thinks that that's the most human she's ever seen the Thief, and for a moment there she'd almost forgotten who – and what – he was, and that's just a little frightening).

* * *

After Anzu leaves, the Thief returns to staring at the wall. He expects to slip back into his mind fairly quickly, for time to fly by so quickly that he can't tell whether he's been locked inside his own thoughts for hours or simply seconds, but every time he thinks he's about to leave ("disassociate", Anzu had called it), the rectangular pad of paper catches his eye. He turns his head to look directly at it.

For the first time since his return, the whispering in the back of his mind stops.

* * *

 _"Little thief!" the young woman scolds, batting the child's reaching hands away from the tantalizing balls of fried dough lying on the windowsill. "They're too hot to eat right now," she adds gently. "You don't want those sticky little fingers of yours to get burned, do you?"_

Long black hair, olive skin, eyes too dark to be brown but not quite black

 _"It's just a cut," she says soothingly. "The bleeding will stop soon, little one. There is no need for tears. You can learn from this. You can_ always _learn."_

Not blood kin, but still a sister; not blood kin, but _family_

 _"Stay here," she hisses, terror evident in both her voice and her eyes. "Stay here and do not move, little one."_

 _"I'm scared!" a kiss, soft lips pressed quickly against his forehead._

 _"I know," she whispers. "But you must stay quiet. Stay hidden. Everything will be okay. I promise."_

A promise she must've known she couldn't keep – he'd never forgiven her for that

 _"Little one, do you understand what is going on right now?"_

 _"You're gonna stay here forever?"_

 _"Forever and ever."_

 _"Because of Elder Sister?"_

 _"Because of Miryim, yes."_

 _"…Will you make fried dough-balls every day?"_

 _"Of course not! If I made them every day, they wouldn't be so special! But there will be plenty of fried dough-balls at the ceremony, I promise."_

 _"_ Your _fried dough-balls, right?" the child had asked anxiously. "Yours are the bestest."_

 _"The bestest?"_

 _"Mm-hmm."_

A kind smile, warm hugs, the softest hands of anyone in the village

 _"Ashiya?"_

 _"Yes, little one?"_

 _"Are you Elder Sister now too?"_

 _"…I'd like to be."_

 _"Then you are. I said so, so go tell your papa that you can stay here with me an' Miryim. And the others too, but mostly us." She'd laughed at that._

 _"One day," she'd promised. "One day, I'll come back to stay for good."_

 _"With fried dough-balls?"_

 _"Who knows? Fried dough-balls are like desert sandstorms. You never know when they'll appear."_

He draws the last person from Kul Elna he'd seen alive.

* * *

"I dreamed last night," Marik says when they sit down for lunch. It's an odd statement, coming from anyone – most people because that's a regular occurrence, and Marik for the opposite reason. "There was a girl."

"And something about fried dough?" Yuugi asks. Marik nods.

"Ashiya," Bakura says, not looking up from his bento. "His sister's lover. Or… wife. Possibly. I'm not sure."

"Was that allowed back then?" Otogi asks, surprised. Bakura shrugs.

"Kul Elna _was_ a village of outcasts," he points out. "I don't think they really cared one way or another."

"Ancient Egyptian lesbians aside, I'm glad this dream wasn't as horrible as the last one." Honda says, looking very surprised that the phrase "Ancient Egyptian lesbians" had come out of his mouth. Jounouchi nods.

"Yeah, I'd take food and lesbians over starving in the desert any day," he agrees.

"Big surprise," Anzu rolls her eyes. "It _was_ a good dream, though, right?"

"Yeah," Yuugi says, looking down at his onigiri. "But… I feel a bit sad, thinking about it. That girl was probably killed in the massacre. I know they were thieves, so I'd always imagined them as big scary men, not as–"

"People," Bakura cuts in. "You'd never imagined them as people." Yuugi flinches, but nods. Bakura gives them a thin smile. "It's always easier to see your enemies as monsters," he observes. "I suppose that's part of being human, though."

"They weren't my enemies!" Yuugi protests. "They were–" he bites his lip, squeezes his eyes shut, and takes a deep breath. "They were innocent," he whispers. "I won't pretend they weren't anymore." He looks up at Bakura. "Is that what you wanted to hear?" Bakura looks a little taken aback.

"I'm sorry, Yuugi," he apologizes. "I don't know what's gotten into me lately. I've just been… a bit irritable, I suppose." Out of the corner of his eye, Yuugi sees Marik stiffen slightly and resolves to talk to him later. For now, he just smiles.

"It's fine," he says, simply. "We're all a little on edge right now." Honda glances at Anzu.

"You alright there?" he calls. She jumps, surprised.

"Sorry," she laughs nervously. "I got a bit lost in my thoughts." She sighs. "I was just thinking– I wish we knew his name. The Ring Spirit's, I mean. I keep thinking of him as 'Bakura', and he's not, so–"

"I thought we agreed he didn't have a Ren?" Marik says. "And – no offense, Bakura – but we've all been thinking of him as 'Bakura' since day one."

"Which is a little annoying, but overall understandable," Bakura says calmly. "I suppose we don't know for sure which pieces of his soul we have, assuming our theory is right in the first place. I just called him 'Voice' when he was in my head. Now that he's got his own body, I've just been – well, I've been avoiding him, mostly, but I started thinking of him as the Spirit. But that's not really accurate either, so I ended up going with 'the Thief'."

"Has he stolen anything lately?" Jounouchi wonders.

"My sense of security," Yuugi replies, and Marik snorts into his rice. "Aside from that, not really. He didn't even leave his room until yesterday. Well, except when he goes to the bathroom, I guess."

"Ew!" Honda wails. "Now I have a mental image of his pasty butt stuck in my head!" Bakura swats at him.

"That's _my_ pasty butt you're talking about," he says, unable to hide his grin. The conversation quickly devolves into jokes and friendly teasing.

In the back of his mind, Marik thinks that having friends is kind of wonderful.

* * *

"Grandpa," Atem says suddenly. It feels a bit strange to call Sugoroku 'grandpa', but when he'd tried 'Mr. Mutou', the old man had gently smacked him upside the head and told him not to be ridiculous (in all honesty, Atem wouldn't be surprised if Yuugi's grandfather secretly wanted all of them to call him 'grandpa', and he mentally snorts at the thought of Kaiba addressing him as such, although he knew _that_ would never happen). The old man turns to look at him. "Can I work here?"

"You already help out," Sugoroku points out, surprised.

"Only when you need a favor," Atem argues. "I mean like a real job. I'm not the Pharaoh anymore, and I need to get used to being a normal person. Only I don't have any sort of identification papers or a birth certificate or even something I could put on a job résumé, so–"

"Sure," Sugoroku says simply. Atem blinks at him, and the old man smiles at his surprise. "I'm not getting any younger," he declares, "and I definitely wouldn't mind having an assistant. But don't take that as an excuse to start calling me 'Mr. Mutou' again!" Sugoroku wags his finger strictly, the sternness of his tone betrayed by the laughter in his eyes. "It's 'Grandpa' until we're dead and buried, and after that as well, got it?" Atem doesn't even try to hide his smile.

"Got it, Grandpa." He glances towards the stairs. Perhaps the Thief would benefit from a job as well, once he was back on his feet. It was better than stealing, after all (not to mention, given his appearance, he could easily get Bakura into trouble). Sugoroku follows his gaze and sighs.

"Things will work out," he promises. "This isn't even close to the hardest thing you kids have gotten up to." Atem smiles and nods, and Sugoroku silently wonders if anything could possibly be as hard as finding the answer to a problem when you don't know what the problem is to begin with and there might not be a solution at all.

* * *

After school, Marik goes to Bakura's house. He reaches out to knock, decides against it, and is just about to leave when the door opens. Bakura looks at him and rolls his eyes.

"Just come in," he says, looking amused. Marik grins sheepishly and obeys.

"I'll keep this quick," he tells him. Bakura shrugs.

"You don't have to."

"Don't pretend you're dying to have this conversation, Ryou, you can't fool me."

"I guess not. Want some tea?"

"Thanks, but no." Marik takes a deep breath. "I know you've been having nightmares too." Bakura neither confirms nor denies it.

"What makes you say that?" he asks, face betraying no clear emotion.

"Because I'm not an idiot?" Marik suggests. They both laugh, even though it's a bit insulting to their friends (although it's not idiocy that Yuugi's group has; just some rather extensive naivety). "How did you know that girl's name?" Marik asks, once the laughter stops. "I can't imagine the Ring Spirit was all that eager to talk about his past."

"It wasn't his past," Bakura says shortly. "He wasn't the Thief King. He was some combination of the Thief King's soul and Zorc's. The Thief King, the Ring Spirit, and the guy in Yuugi's house are all different people."

"How can you tell?" Marik asks. It's not out of skepticism – if Bakura can say all of that with that much certainty, Marik believes him.

"It's my soul too," Bakura reminds him. "Yuugi is the Pharaoh's reincarnation. I'm the Thief King's."

"So… his soul returned to you?" Marik says hesitantly. Souls are confusing, he thinks privately. "Er, sort of?"

"No, not really," Bakura says. "The Thief King died three thousand years ago. He was reborn as me. But there were a few pieces missing. I guess that's why I kept putting the Ring back on. My soul wanted to be whole again."

"Is it?"

"Is yours?"

There's a silence in the apartment, one neither of them knows how to fill. It's not a question that has an easy answer – possibly not any answer. There's the part of Marik that wasn't _really_ a part of his soul but was still a _part of him_ that isn't there anymore, and he wonders if Bakura feels the same sort of hole that he does.

"So… that guy in Yuugi's house… who – or what – is he, exactly?" Marik asks after what feels like an eternity of silence. Bakura shrugs.

"Pieces. The pieces I'm missing, the pieces of the spirits of Kul Elna that had nowhere to go once the Items were destroyed… maybe there's some of you in there too, actually." He gives Marik a tiny grin, and Marik rolls his eyes.

"No one's been stabbed yet, so I doubt it," he replies. Bakura just shakes his head, smiling. Marik thinks of the Thief, alone in his room with the spirits of people who weren't _his_ but weren't _not_ , and he thinks maybe being just a little incomplete isn't too bad after all. "On second thought," he says quietly, "tea doesn't sound too bad."

* * *

The Thief's fingers are dusted dark gray with charcoal, but he doesn't notice. He stares at the wall blankly, as always. The only difference is the piece of paper lying on his bed, torn from the drawing pad Anzu had brought in that morning.

A young woman stands amidst the desert sand, hair blowing in the wind, one hand resting on her breast. The Thief remembers the smell of fried dough and cinnamon.

He can't remember how to spell her name in the language he'd first been shown it, and he never learned to write in or read hieroglyphics, so he writes it in katakana.

ア

シ

ヤ

 **AN: And that's chapter three! Woo, I'm enjoying this one. Honestly, I'm pandering to myself a bit in this chapter – I want Atem to work in the gift shop, I want Bakura to have a friend who calls him by his first name (I want the same for Jounouchi and Honda, but the anime made Bakura so** ** _separate_** **from the main cast that I want it more for him), and I want me some VEXBROSHIPPING. I don't know why I want that, but I do. Maybe I'll write a silly fic later where Anzu watches JoJo's Bizarre Adventure with him instead of giving him a sketchpad. That'd be fun. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and please tell me what you thought! Kitty out.**


	4. Ab Existentia

**AN: Not getting many reviews for this one… talk about discouraging! Still, this fandom (most fandoms, come to that) has always preferred shipping fics over anything else, and romance has never really been my genre. On top of that, Anzu is despised by a huge portion of the fanbase (as is generally the case with most major female characters in an anime where most fans are yaoi fangirls). Eh, it doesn't really matter, though – I'm relatively new to this fandom, and most people who read my stories are in the Fairy Tail fandom. So there's that too, I guess. Anyway, here's another chapter of this. I hope you enjoy it, I** ** _really_** **hope you review it, and if you decide to tell all your friends about it, then that's… a bit weird, actually, but you do you. Kitty out.**

 **Warnings** : Disassociation, flashbacks, nightmares, possibly squicky imagery, Kaiba being Kaiba, suicidal thoughts, and your daily dose of existential identity crises

Chapter Four: Ab Existentia

Atem finds the drawing the next day, after he's gone through the morning ritual of coaxing the Thief out of his mind and back into reality. He picks it up carefully, squinting at the katakana on the side. Now that he's out of Yuugi's body, it's much more difficult to read Japanese characters. He can manage katakana and hiragana fairly well, but it takes him awhile with kanji. English, something Yuugi himself was still learning, had been lost to the former Pharoah entirely.

"A… tsu… ya…" he reads slowly.

"Ashiya," the Thief corrects him. Atem jumps slightly, not having heard the other ex-spirit reenter the room. It only takes him a moment to regain his composure.

"I thought this one was 'tsu'," he says, pointing to the second character.

"'Tsu' and 'shi' are almost identical in katakana," the Thief slips across the room, slipping a shirt on. He's been more active lately, Atem thinks absently, and then wonders whether or not that's a good thing.

"Why didn't you write it in hieroglyphics?" Atem asks. He realizes the answer a second later, and the Thief doesn't bother dignifying the stupid question with an answer, simply rolls his eyes. Peasant literacy, Atem remembers, wasn't really a thing back in Ancient Egypt. "She's beautiful," he says before he can stop himself.

"She _was_ ," the Thief replies calmly. "My– _his_ sister's wife." Atem frowns.

"Yours," he objects. The Thief just shrugs. "Your sister married a woman?"

"Kul Elna didn't really care about gender," he says. "As far as we were concerned, people did what they did. My father fell in love with my mother after he saw her break up a bar fight by smashing a stool over someone's head, or so he said." Atem smiles slightly.

"She sounds like quite the woman," he muses. "Ah, not to say–"

"She would've liked you, I think," the Thief cuts him off, not really paying attention. Atem wonders whether the Thief realizes who he's talking to – this is the closest thing they've ever had to a civil conversation. "At least, as much as any dirt-poor peasant can like royalty. Always said royals spent too much time on their asses and not enough doing their damn jobs." Atem can't stop himself from smiling.

"I can't say I disagree," he admits. "A lot of things happened that shouldn't have. I couldn't have stopped all of them, but there were some things I certainly _could_ have."

The Thief doesn't reply. When Atem turns to look at him, his eyes are a million miles away. The Pharaoh sets the drawing down on the nightstand as carefully as he can.

"I'll be back later," he tells him. If the Thief hears him, he doesn't show it. Atem keeps the image of the girl in the drawing – Ashiya – in his mind for the rest of the day.

* * *

In history class, Bakura zones out. The teacher isn't saying anything he doesn't already know, for once, so he just absently doodles. When he looks down at his notes, he realizes he's been writing in a completely different language.

בָּבֻרָ

He doesn't realize how fast his breath is coming until the teacher's panicked voice shakes him out of his thoughts. He looks up, tries to speak, and feels his knees buckle as the world around him fades to black.

* * *

The rest of the gang finds out what had happened to Bakura at lunch, courtesy of Otogi, who was in the same history class (as was Kaiba, but he hadn't shown up that day, for whatever reason).

"Did you know what set him off?" Jounouchi asks. Otogi just shrugs.

"If he fell asleep, he might've had a nightmare," Anzu says. Marik tenses. He knew that Bakura, like Marik and Yuugi, was having nightmares, but he was fairly certain no one else knew. Anzu catches his eye and shakes her head. "I guessed," she tells him, "but thanks for confirming." Marik bites his lip and looks down.

"I guess he didn't want to worry us," Honda says. A pointless endeavor, in his case – Honda always worried about Bakura.

"Officially, it was just lack of sleep," Yuugi reports, sitting down in between Marik and Anzu. "He went home early."

"Lack of sleep generally doesn't cause panic attacks," Otogi points out.

"They can cause hallucinations," Marik tells him. "Those can _definitely_ cause panic attacks." _And I should know_ says the look on his face. Otogi nods, thoughtfully.

"He could just be sick," Jounouchi says hopefully. Anzu rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, of course he could be, but when have things ever been that simple?" she frowns as her chopsticks break unevenly, before wrinkling her nose and getting over it.

"Normally?" Otogi says, grinning. "They usually _are_."

"Nothing about any of this is normal," Yuugi murmurs.

"Well, sure," Marik smirks, leaning back against a tree. "I mean, you hang out with a bunch of freaks, Yuugi; what did you think was gonna happen?" Jounouchi lunges for him, intent on giving him a noogie, and Marik ducks out of the way, sniggering. The rest of the group laughs.

"Not sure if you realized it, Marik, but you're part of that 'bunch of freaks'," Honda calls over Anzu's head. "No backing out now, buddy, you're already on the Christmas card." Marik freezes for a moment, before relaxing slightly.

"I don't celebrate Christmas," he says nonchalantly, examining his fingernails. "I was under the impression that it was a couples' holiday in Japan, though." He gasped dramatically, pressing his hands over his chest. "Honda-senpai! Are you trying to ask me out?" Honda chokes on his ramen, and Yuugi laughs so hard he falls into Anzu, knocking her bento out of her hand. Tako-shaped sausage spills onto the grass.

"Yuugi!" Jounouchi says, horrified. "Now you owe Anzu a new sausage!" Both Yuugi and Anzu turn red, and the rest of the conversation is spent cracking jokes and trying not to think about Bakura or the Thief or the dreams – memories – still plaguing almost half of their little group.

* * *

Isis doesn't know how to react to any of this – to her little brother helping Yuugi talk to the Pharaoh, to said duo _resurrecting_ the Pharaoh, to the Thief being cast out of the shadows to balance Ma'at's scales. And now the Thief is staying at Yuugi's house, trapped somewhere between the realms of sanity and madness, in a body that – if Yuugi's theory was correct – was probably a worse fate than being devoured by Ahemait. The religious part of Isis reminds her that the gods knew what they were doing, but she can't help but feel more than a tad disgusted at their choice of punishment for the Thief.

Was it because he'd stolen from the dead or because he'd tried to destroy the world? Were the gods trying to punish the Thief King or the Spirit of the Millennium Ring? And most importantly, did it _matter_? Was this an actual punishment, or was it just spite? The fact that the line could get so blurred was cause for concern. For the first time in a while, Isis finds herself longing for the certainty she'd had when she bore the Millennium Tauk – but that was gone, long gone, and Isis knows well enough that there are some things mortals were never meant to know.

* * *

 _In the village of Kul Elna, there was an old woman named Bitya'a – an outsider, who'd come to live there when her granddaughter had fallen in love with the village chieftain's daughter – whose milky white eyes had forever been unseeing of the surrounding world. But there were whispers amongst the people of the village that Bitya'a saw more than anyone realized._

 _This woman, they said, this outsider – this woman whose eyes had never absorbed a glimmer of light – could See._

* * *

Seto Kaiba has missed so many days of school that there are teachers who are genuinely surprised to see him when he shows up to class. It had no effect on his grades, as the teen was a genius, and everyone understood that he had to put his company before his education. After all, Kaiba technically didn't _need_ to go to school – he chose to. He _wanted_ to learn (the way other people had; without collars and harsh _words and a cold terror filling his lungs at the mere thought of failure_ ). He probably could've tested out of all of his classes, should he choose to, but no one ever asked why.

Recently, however, the number of absences for Seto Kaiba on the attendance lists had shot up, which usually only happened when KaibaCorp was working on a new device (or an upgrade for the existing Duel Disk system) or when a soon-to-be-fired secretary accidentally made a mistake in scheduling a meeting. Teachers had learned not to ask, as the explanation was generally clipped, sarcastic, or so full of technobabble that it was nearly impossible to decipher.

This time, unbeknownst to the general public, the absences were entirely unrelated to business. Yuugi Mutou and his group of friends were, most likely, under the impression that Kaiba was preparing to challenge Atem to a duel – and assumption that, in fairness, there was a certain amount of truth in. But there was another reason for his absence, one that didn't necessarily relate to Duel Monsters (at least, not entirely).

Yuugi Mutou was the King of Games, and Kaiba had made it his life's goal to defeat him. Even after he learned that yes, Yuugi was indeed possessed by a Pharaoh, and yes, that Pharaoh was _technically_ the one who'd won the title, his goal shouldn't have changed because Yuugi _beat_ the Pharaoh. Yuugi was, undeniably, the King of Games, and Kaiba had challenged him for the title multiple times since the Ceremonial Duel.

But it wasn't the same. Kaiba wanted to be the best, and Yuugi currently _was_ the best, so it only made sense for Kaiba to want to Duel him. And it would have, but Kaiba _didn't_ want to Duel him. He wanted to Duel Atem. Perhaps "wanted" was the wrong word – he _needed_ to Duel Atem. Atem was the one who had beaten him so many times, Atem was the one who had been willing to let Kaiba die in order to win, _Atem was the one person in all the world who was truly a worthy opponent_. The obsession was becoming a problem. Going to school felt almost like an act of masochism nowadays, because Yuugi was there and the Pharaoh _wasn't_.

And then, out of nowhere, Atem had returned. He'd come back to the world of the living, in his original body, and for a moment Kaiba had been foolish enough to hope that his return would calm the insane thoughts that ran through his head when he thought about Dueling his rival – thoughts that ranged from acceptable-yet-annoying to frighteningly dangerous. One time, he'd almost considered consulting a professional after the thought that maybe he could Duel Atem in the afterlife had crossed his mind (but that would cause problems for his business, so he simply pushed the thoughts to the back of his head and carried on).

And then there was the matter of how to _handle_ all of this. Kaiba shut his eyes and rested his chin on his interlaced fingers, frowning. It would be easier, he thought to himself, to make a list.

Item the first: Atem was back, and Kaiba needed to Duel him. Easily solved – he simply had to approach and challenge him.

Item the second: Atem was back, and Kaiba had no idea how to challenge him at all. Problem – how to challenge an Ancient Egypt Pharaoh to a children's trading card game wasn't exactly something one could Google.

Item the third: Atem was back, and Kaiba needed to shove that thought aside and go back to school. Also easy – he knew how to compartmentalize his thoughts and feelings, and all he _really_ needed to do was avoid the Dweeb Patrol™.

Item the fourth: Atem was back, and Mokuba was probably getting worried. This was a problem as well – he really couldn't fool his brother, especially not over something like this.

Item the fifth: Atem was back, and the words "Atem is back" were starting to preface every thought going through Kaiba's head. Easily solved – all he needed to do was challenge him to a Duel.

Kaiba groaned, rubbing his temples as he realized that his train of thought had not only fallen off the track, but was now trying to go in circles despite being overturned, badly dented, and probably also on fire. And so, Kaiba did what he always did when his brain was racing thirty thousand miles over the speed limit – he went back to work.

* * *

 _"Damned brat!" the old woman cuffs the child upside the head, scowling. "You think I don't know when there's a runt like you running around causing trouble?"_

Wrinkled skin, sightless milky white eyes, a scowl that could petrify the gods themselves

 _"I don't approve of this arrangement," she'd grumbled, watching her granddaughter kiss the village chieftain's daughter. "They're too young for marriage. It won't lead to anything but disaster." Something in her sightless eyes glimmered, and told listeners that perhaps she didn't truly mean the words she spoke._

Too old to stay with the traders' caravans, too close to her only surviving relative to bear being parted from her

 _"Don't you know what happens to little brats who sneak around after dark? The gods will send scorpions after you!"_

 _"Scorpions?"_

 _"That's right. Enormous scorpions – twice the size of a caravan! Back inside with you, brat!"_

Harsh words concealing good intentions, a proud nod at a great achievement, stories woven with such care that it was easy to forget they weren't real

 _"The caravans will not return."_

 _"What did you See, grandmother?"_

 _"…Never you mind, brat."_

* * *

As the Thief's pencil details the worn scarf that covered the old woman's head, he wonders to himself if Bitya'a had known the true reason that the traders would never again set foot in Kul Elna. He likes to think she would've warned them all, but Bitya'a had been old and fatalistic and might have thought there was nothing to be done. She wouldn't necessarily have been wrong. But it's far more likely for the gods not to have shown her anything – to take away Kul Elna's one chance at survival.

The Thief wants to hate them for it – wants to scream and curse and break things and get _back at them_ , but he can't. The bottomless pit of hatred that had welled up inside of him had only grown during the three thousand years he spent inside the Millennium Ring with Zorc, but it all seemed to have vanished upon his defeat.

He's tired, now. Too tired for vengeance or hatred or even grief. He just wants _rest_ and he doesn't think he can ever forgive Yuugi and Marik for pulling him out of the blissful _nothingness_ of wherever he'd been before. And Marik, that bastard, didn't even have the decency to let him go back.

He wishes he had enough strength left to hate them, but that only lasts a moment before the tattered souls of his people pull him back into his mind to remember all the things they no longer know how to remember on their own. His days are filled with the whispers of the dead and his nights with Yuugi, Marik, and Bakura dragging him through memories that aren't quite his but aren't _not_. He can't decide which he hates more.

 **AN: I'm gonna end this chapter here, since I think this is a pretty good stopping point. I'm tired… anyway, I've been working on a few more YGO fics, but I doubt I'll post any of them until this one is done. Shouldn't be too much longer – I'm pretty sure I know how I want it to end. Just gotta get there. Well, thanks for reading, let me know what you thought, and I'll see you later. Kitty out.**


	5. Reunions

**AN: This story is getting attention! Yay! I even got a fic rec! I'm pretty psyched about that, as you can imagine. I'm so happy that people are enjoying this story, and I hope you continue to enjoy what's to come! Please let me know what you think, and have fun reading! Kitty out.**

 **Warnings** : Flashbacks, nightmares, death, various dark shit, disassociation, poor life choices, more existential nonsense, more dialogue than I'm used to writing, and possibly also a hug (Kaiba-style, so it's less of a hug and more a grunt of acknowledgement)

Chapter Five: Reunions

That night, Yuugi – and Marik too, most likely, even if he can't remember it clearly – dreams of knives and fire and cruel laughter. He wakes up sobbing, Atem rubbing his shoulders, and has to feel his face to make sure it's still intact. He wants to apologize to the Thief, but the look on the other's face when he comes in clogs up the words in his throat like hot molasses and he spends fifteen minutes in the bathroom hunched over the toilet (nothing comes out, which doesn't help alleviate the queasiness).

A few minutes after Yuugi leaves for school, Atem finds a drawing of some kind of insect, half-eaten and still twitching. He wonders if it's some form of an attempt at communication or just the Thief's way of flipping them off. Maybe it's both, he thinks, smirking a little. It's a bit amazing how he can find anything about this situation amusing, but his sense of humor is different than it was in Yuugi's body (Anzu says there's probably a scientific explanation – something about chemicals, maybe – but he doesn't know anyone science-y enough to figure it out).

Atem spends a few minutes staring at the drawing and picks up the phone.

* * *

 _The orange of the setting sun and the reddish brown of the desert bleed together, colors mixing as Nut and Geb's fingertips brush against each other for mere moments until they are separated once more._

 _"It really isn't fair," Aren says, and Bakura – three years old and too young to understand what it means to be in love – looks at him with the wide eyes of a child who doesn't know what you're saying but is curious enough to listen anyway. "It isn't fair," his elder brother says again. "To be separated like that. If you love someone, you should be allowed to be with that person."_

 _Bakura continues to listen as his brother talks about the girl he saw when he went with their father to the market place in a bigger city – how she smiled at him and laughed at his jokes and showed him how to write his name in Hieroglyphics and how he thinks he might want to marry her._

 _"So marry her," he says, shrugging. "Like Ashiya and Elder Sister, right?"_

 _But Aren just shakes his head and says that it's different, that there are too many reasons they can't be together. He doesn't elaborate. "I'll tell you when you're older," he assures him._

 _"How much older?"_

 _"Hm… two years," Aren promises._

 _Two years later Aren is dead and Bakura is watching from behind the ruins of a cupboard as his brother's fingers twitch when a soldier yanks the stone axe out of the back of his head_.

* * *

The pencil snaps in half and veers off the paper. The Thief stares down at it in disgust, half of the face he'd been drawing grinning at him. It felt like mockery – the squiggle left by the broken pencil, taunting him over– over–. He wasn't sure. He thinks he should feel bad about breaking the pencil, since he only has so many and he certainly isn't going to ask Anzu for more, but he can't muster up even the slightest bit of "oops".

 _Everything is broken here_ , he thinks to himself. _Everything and everyone is broken here_. He doesn't know where "here" is, so he snatches up the failed drawing and tears it in half, again and again and again, until the floor and bed are littered with tiny fragments of what was nothing more than just another failure.

He laughs, and it feels like dying.

* * *

Kaiba knows who it is before he picks up the phone.

"Yuugi," he says anyway.

"I have a name of my own, you know," the Pharaoh replies and Kaiba can see him smirking in his mind's eye.

"What do you want?" Cold, collected, professional. No room for emotions that could show weakness – no escape for the discomfort building within the both of them.

"I'm simply surprised you haven't asked me to Duel you," Atem says, and Kaiba scowls. _Arrogant bastard_ , he thinks to himself. The irony doesn't escape him.

"Yuugi is the King of Games now," Kaiba reminds him. "Why would I aim for second best?" It's bullshit and they both know it.

"Yuugi says you haven't challenged him either."

"I've been busy."

"Not too busy to answer my call."

"What do you _want_ , Atem?" The word feels strange on his tongue, almost like he's broken some sort of taboo. There's silence for a moment.

"So you do know my name," the Pharaoh is trying not to laugh, and Kaiba refuses to indulge him any further.

"I'm free at 2:30," he snaps.

"No, you're not," Atem tries to sound stern, but there's no point.

"I am _now_ ," Kaiba corrects him, and Isono wordlessly reschedules his 2:00 appointment.

"One would think that's bad for business," Atem notes, and Kaiba resists the urge to snort.

"2:30." He says again and hangs up. Four hours, twenty-seven minutes, and thirteen seconds, Kaiba thinks, looking at the clock.

And then he pushes the thoughts of Atem and Dueling out of his head and returns to work, because he is Seto Kaiba and ' _Atem is back_ ' isn't enough to keep him from getting some work done.

* * *

The Duel is private, because Kaiba really _shouldn't_ be putting off work (or school) for this, but Isono's there with a camera recording everything anyway, just in case. Atem arrives exactly on time, and Kaiba can't help but be annoyed by his punctuality. _Just had to time everything perfectly, didn't you_ , he thinks bitterly, like he's never done exactly that.

It goes about as expected, with both of them doing fairly well until Atem magically drew the exact card he needed to secure a victory. The only difference is that the Black Magician's smirk is much more meaningful now that he knows who Mahado is (or rather, _was_ ), and Kaiba has to resist the urge to flip him off when he does that annoying finger wag. All in all, it's a rather anti-climatic battle.

"I don't suppose you have an understanding of brain chemicals," Atem says, for lack of anything else to say. Kaiba rolls his eyes.

"I'm a computer scientist, not a neurochemist," he sneers. "That's not my area of expertise. Why are you even asking something like that?" Atem sighs and sits down and Kaiba wonders who the hell told him he could stay and chat.

"Just curiosity," he waves off the question. "But I do need your help with something." Of course he does. It stings, surprisingly enough, that Atem didn't just show up to Duel him.

"And that would be?"

"How do I communicate with an emotionally stunted asshole who's tried to kill me and my friends in the past but is now someone who doesn't seem to be able to function on his own?"

"I can 'function' just fine," Kaiba retorts, and Atem can't stop himself from laughing.

"For once, Kaiba, you aren't the emotionally stunted previously murderous asshole in question," he says, smirking. "Although I must admit, I find it amusing that you immediately assumed I was talking about you. Come to think of it, you _do_ fit the description…"

"Listen, I–" Kaiba begins and then stops as curiosity overcomes the desire to make a witty comment. "Wait, how many 'emotionally stunted assholes that have tried to kill you and your friends in the past' do you know?" Atem thinks about it for a moment.

"Does Rishid count?" he asks.

"The guy who wasn't Marik?"

"The guy who–" Atem can't hide his grin. "Yes, Kaiba, the guy who wasn't Marik." He coughs, trying to push the conversation back to a more serious tone. "If you count him, then it's four. Otherwise, it's just you, Marik, and the Spirit of the Millennium Ring." Kaiba raises an eyebrow.

"He's back too?"

"You didn't know?"

"I… haven't exactly been at school much lately," Kaiba confesses. "I've had a lot of work to do."

"You've been avoiding Yuugi, you mean," Atem corrects, unimpressed. Kaiba doesn't bother to deny it.

"I assume you're talking about him, then?" He asks, and Atem nods. "What do you expect from me? I barely know the normal Bakura, much less his evil alter ego."

"I should've asked Mokuba," Atem says, shaking his head. Kaiba takes a minute to process that.

"Okay, well, screw you too," he mutters before he can stop himself. Atem rises.

"I should get going," he says. "And… Kaiba?"

"What?"

"Thank you."

* * *

During lunch, Yuugi tells his friends about the dream – less solid than the others, he says, which only made it scarier. Marik doesn't remember his dreams still, but apparently Rishid was worried about him (which might not mean anything, because when is Rishid _not_ worried about Marik). Bakura hasn't come back to school yet, and Kaiba's still not there either, and the conversation eventually peters to silence.

"I dunno how much longer I can deal with this," Otogi says, sounding a bit hoarse. "I know that's– that's probably _really_ selfish, but–"

"It's not," Anzu cuts him off sternly, frowning. "This isn't something any of us know how to deal with. We can't just play a game and solve the problem, and the fact is that that's what we've gotten used to. It's good to help your friends, Otogi, but you also need to take care of yourself – _and_ , in your case, you have a job as well."

"I sorta thought you'd say 'friends have to stick together' or something," Jounouchi comments. Anzu gives him a funny look.

"Why would I say that?" she asks, brow furrowing. "Friends _do_ have to stick together, sure, but part of that is understanding people's limits. On top of that, we still don't have a solid idea of what's going on. I can't expect Otogi to throw everything aside and devote his full attention to this situation. No one can do that, not even me. I learned that from you," she adds, looking at Yuugi, who nods.

"I wouldn't want you to do that anyway," he agrees. "Marik and I made a mistake; it's only fair that we're the ones who clean up the mess. We've dragged enough people into this as it is, really."

"That's what I keep telling Isis and Rishid," Marik wrinkles his nose, as though his sandwich had done something to personally offend him. "But you know how they are." He shrugs. "At least Isis stopped lecturing me for the moment."

"She'll use it against you," Honda warns. "Older sisters are like that. She will _never_ let this go." Marik snorts.

"I have no doubt of _that_ ," he grumbles. "I once hid one of her earrings as a joke. It was nearly a year ago, but she's _still_ mad."

"Little sisters are much better," Jounouchi laughs. "Shizuka wouldn't do that at all." He turns to glare at Otogi. "Speaking of Shizuka," he growls. "Why are you on a _first-name basis_ with my _sister_?" Otogi shrugs innocently.

"I just wanted to make her feel more included," he winks, and Jounouchi lunges at him. Anzu yelps in surprise as the two boys begin to tussle, and prepares to break it up until she sees Yuugi laughing at the scene and decides to let it go for now.

"'Hiroto'," Honda mumbles dreamily. "Wonder if I could get her to use _my_ name…" Jounouchi glares at him over his shoulder.

"You're next, Honda! Stay the hell away from my sister!"

* * *

Ryou Bakura's smile is a little too forced when Sugoroku lets him in.

"You should be in school," he reprimands quietly. Bakura nods in agreement.

"I need to talk to him," he says. "I'll go back soon, I promise, but–" Sugoroku puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him, and silently steps aside. "Thank you."

The Thief's room has little pieces of paper all over the floor, but the occupant is fully conscious.

"Why are _you_ here?" he rasps, and Bakura crosses his arms.

"You better clean that up," he tells him. "I think you've made enough messes for one lifetime – or several," he adds, pointedly. The Thief scowls at him.

"What do you _want_?" he asks. Bakura leans down until their noses are almost touching. His eyes are narrow and the Thief takes that as a challenge, narrowing his own as well.

"Did he know how to read?" Bakura asks calmly. There's no question as to who "he" is, and the Thief shakes his head. "Who did?"

"A few people," the Thief says after a moment. "A couple of the elders, I think."

"The old woman?"

"She was _blind_."

"Her granddaughter, then?" Bakura knows he's hit the mark when the Thief breaks eye contact. "These aren't my memories," Bakura tries to keep his composure, but it's difficult to force down the anger.

"They aren't mine either," the Thief reminds him.

"Cut the connection," Bakura demands, and the Thief laughs.

"Even if I knew how, I wouldn't," he says. "It's not over until they're free. For _either_ of us." Bakura's fist connects with the Thief's cheek, sending him flying off the bed. It's a bit concerning, since Bakura isn't really all that strong, but the Thief weighs almost nothing.

"This isn't my anger," Bakura repeat, trying to reassure himself. The Thief laughs again, blood running from his nose.

"It's your _something_ ," he grins, and Bakura storms from the room before he can hit him again, slamming the door shut behind him.

"It's not mine," he whispers as his fingernails dig into his palms. "Not mine," he says again hours later when he's eating dinner and rage comes from nowhere, bubbling up inside of him (it smells of tar, he thinks). "You're not mine either," he tells the enormous white creature hovering behind him.

Diabound doesn't reply.

 **AN: I feel like Otogi would be the least equipped to deal with all this nonsense, honestly. But anyway, there's a bit of humor in the middle of the story, just so it doesn't get** ** _too_** **dark. Also because I feel like each chapter should at least reach ten pages so I don't end up slacking off or something. That said, it feels like the word count in each chapter just gets shorter and shorter… I should start wrapping things up, but I have a couple plot points that I need to have happen, and I've only mentioned three members of TKB's family (Ashiya, Bitya'a, and Aren), two of whom aren't even blood relatives. So… I'd like to know how many more people from the past the Thief should have flashbacks about, 'cause I'm definitely going to introduce his sister and parents, but that's probably gonna be it.**

 **Speaking of the flashbacks, you might've noticed that this one was a little bit different from the last two. The reason for that is that I want each flashback to occur differently, because TKB would've had a different relationship with each of them, and trauma is really weird about the memory.**

 **I do have to admit that the Diabound thing was a bit last minute – not the place that particular idea is going; that's been planned out from the beginning, but the bit about having Diabound being physically** ** _in_** **the story didn't occur to me until fairly recently. That said, it'll all make sense fairly soon (well… as much sense as anything else in YGO makes). I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please let me know what you thought! Kitty out.**


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